


Birds and Bees

by Queenspuppet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Beekeeping, F/M, Lazy Mornings, Summer, scenic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-18 00:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12376827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenspuppet/pseuds/Queenspuppet
Summary: Darcy stays with Logan in Montana for safety, and finds plenty of rest and relaxation.





	Birds and Bees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dresupi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/gifts).



“Don’t give me that look,” he said, leaning into the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, straining the sleeves of his flannel. “It’s not forever.”

Darcy tried to erase whatever look she’d been wearing. It was unconscious, really. Logan just snorted at her and stepped back into the cabin.

“Come and put your shit down,” he said.

It was nice, if she was being honest. It was quaint which was weird because in her experience Logan was…rough and if she had walked in to find, like, a store of canned food and two sleeping cots she would not have been surprised. But there was a couch and a wood burning stove and a coffee table with little cork coasters and a half finished beer. There were even curtains. Plain curtains that he’d probably gotten at the dollar store, but it wasn’t newspaper over the windows so Logan must really have been feeling at home.

“Running water and everything,” he said drily.

She realized he’d been watching her take in the space. (She could see a kitchen through a doorway and there was a nice little hall off to the left for the bedrooms and bathroom.)

“It’s nice. Thanks for taking me in,” she said.

“Figured the only way of keeping you out of trouble was putting you somewhere you can’t find any internet,” he said, and then he turned and left her for the kitchen. “Your room is on the left side of the hall. You want a beer?”

“Please,” she said.

Way to bring it home, Logan, she thought as she drifted down the hall. Jane was out of the country and Darcy, in her restlessness, had accidentally broken into the wrong end of the dark web. And by accidentally she just meant she wanted to do her part for the good of mankind, maybe? But when the whisperings about her turned into outright requests for someone to take care of one Darcy Lewis?? Well Tony, and Phil, and Jane at a distance, and pretty much anyone else that thought they had a vote in her life, decided it was high time to put her somewhere for safekeeping.

So yeah.

Welcome to Montana.

The bed in her room had a quilt, all gold and purple triangles and squares bursting out from the center, and a rust speckled mirror, and a little space heater in the corner. There was a lopsided collection of wildflowers halphazardly hanging out of a jam jar and Darcy reached into her pocket to take a picture with her phone. And then remembered that they hadn’t let her bring it.

She dropped her bag to the floor with sigh and went to find Logan in the kitchen. He had a beer ready for her and he nodded to the back deck.

“Come and listen to the birds,” he said, tone dull and face hiding a laugh. “‘Bout all there is to do around here.” He scratched at his beard, which was about as close to sheepish as Logan ever got.

Darcy followed him out to the deck, the hollow rising up around them from the valley, turning into mountains. The sun was setting in front of the cabin and the rampant tall grasses were cast in gold, growing taller as they spread away from the building and Logan’s attempts at order and mowing. He sat down on the bench seat that lined the deck, legs stretching out in front of him, beer bottle spreading a ring of condensation on his jeans where he propped it, head tilting back to listen to the bird song ringing out from the trees rising up the hills.

_

Darcy woke up to the sound of more birds and blue gray darkness outside her window. And then again an hour later to the smell of coffee brewed and a heavy engined truck rattling down the stone drive, barely a hint of light in the sky. And then again a half hour or so after that to more birds.

So she gave up and grabbed a cup of coffee, black and dense and shockingly bitter, and went out to the deck with an old plaid blanket from the couch. It was later than she was expecting, but the sun was just making it’s appearance over the hills and the hollow was chilly and rinsed in dew from the night. She bundled up in the scratchy blanket and slurped at the coffee as light crawled over the meadow and down the drive.

An engine growled down the winding road into the hollow and a rusted up brown pick up truck trundled around the corner and onto the property. Darcy could see the sideburns from here.

Logan got out of driver’s side and Darcy was struck with the sudden notion that she wanted to crawl directly into his unraveling knit sweater and soak up all the body heat she knew he had cooking under there.

“I got you books,” he said, circling back to the bed of the truck and lifting cardboard boxes out from the back.

“Books?” She repeated. From the number of boxes she kind of wondered if Logan didn’t just rob a library.

“You know,” he said, glancing up from under thick eyebrows. “Like Google. But on paper.”

_

He’d gotten a bookshelf too. He said he got her the books and the bookshelf. But they went up in the living room and it all felt…domestic.

And the Google dig was less of a joke than she realized. A lot of the books were reference materials about the area. Because he had robbed a library. Well not robbed. But bought out the charity sale.

So when Logan vanished off into the woods to chase rabbits or chop down unsuspecting trees or whatever it was he did every day, Darcy pulled out the local bird field guide and a pair of binoculars. After three days she decided she liked the little yellow and black Evening Grosbeak best with his indignant chatter and squeaks. And then she got out the illustrated book of local fauna and went foraging.

She made chokecherry jam and pineapple weed tea and Logan came back to the house and sniffed the air.

“The hell?” he asked, staring at the stove.

“If you make a single Little House on the Prairie joke, I’ll drink all your whiskey tomorrow while you’re out,” she promised.

“Not saying nothing.” And then a minute later, “Not taking the first bite of that jam, either.”

_

“Is that your kill?” Darcy asked.

She was stretched on the porch with a thriller novel, smothered in sunblock and enjoying the bright rays all the same. Logan was dragging a tree back to the house, stripped of branches.

“Fresh from the hunt. C’mere. I’ll teach you to use a saw,” he said, hefting the trunk up onto a logging bench.

“I’d rather stay here and objectify you,” she said.

Logan hid his grin behind his sleeve as he wiped the sweat off his face. Then he unbuttoned and stripped out of his flannel so she could stare at him in a damp tank top.

She got all of two pages further into the novel before giving up and going in the cabin to fetch beers for them both. She watched the rest stretched across the top of the deck bench, and didn’t mind a bit when Logan took the tank top off and went to work with the axe.

_

The temperature dropped dramatically at night in the hollow. Which explained the space heater in her room in the belly of summer.

She put together a little campfire in a ring of bricks and Logan came out after her fingertips were a little singed and she’d stopped cursing. They sat in lawn chairs near each other, letting the smoke drift away from them, sipping whiskey together.

“Where do you go every day?” she asked after a quiet hour of watching embers spread over logs and sparks float away into the tree line.

“Checkin’ on my bees,” Logan said, soft and rumbly. He was wearing that sweater again, the one with the cuffs that were undoing and slouch that Darcy was pretty sure she could share with him.

“Your bees?” she asked. “Is that…Is that slang?” B’s like bitches? Did Logan have a harem of log women out in the woods?

“For what?” he asked, laugh cracking out in the words.

“Bees, bees? Bzzzz bees?”

He was laughing, trying to hide his sharp smile behind the hand rubbing at his beard. “Got no idea what other kind you’re thinkin’ of, Darce.”

“I just…I can’t picture it.”

“I don’t have a suit for you, but you can come out with me sometime.”

_

She only got stung twice. They burned a little but Logan took her back to the cabin and put baking soda paste on her neck and arm with careful fingers. She got the ones high up on his shoulders. Not because he needed her too, but he was letting her and if she lingered…well, he was relaxed, so who else was going to mind?

The important part was that they had honeycomb for their efforts.

“Oh my god,” Darcy hummed, trying to hold the heavy syrup on her tongue for another minute. It was spicy and dense and the sweetest flavor she’d ever had. She whimpered a little as Logan poured a little puddle of cream into the bowl over the top of her chunk.

“Trust me,” he said.

And she did.

And he was right. They both groaned, teeth dragging across spoons trying to catch every last smear of honey, cold cream bursting and bringing the flowery clover taste out to spill into their mouths.

“Way to go bees,” Darcy said and pretended not to notice Logan’s cheeks pink with the praise.

_

Late in summer Darcy woke in Logan’s arms. They’d had another campfire, this one with more whiskey. They’d shared a log as a seat and even if Darcy didn’t get into that ribbed sweater, she’d cuddled up to it.

And then fallen asleep on it.

Logan was putting her down in her bed and her fingers were tangling into the loose threads on his sleeves. He smelled like campfire and the cigar he’d been mangling and honey.

“I think you should stay,” she whispered.

Warm hands squeezed at her waist and hips as she sank against the mattress. His knee was pressing into the bed against her side and she was pretty sure if she just tugged a little harder, he’d come sinking down over her.

“I think you should ask me that tomorrow,” he said, growled, into her ear.

“I’m gonna,” she said, and he untangled her fingers from his sweater and nuzzled his nose against her hairline before vanishing from the bed.

She huffed as the door shut behind him and then burrowed under her blankets.

_

She woke up early in the morning, and the cabin was dark and quiet. Her room was chilly and her toes were cold.

She padded across the hall to the other bedroom where the space heater was going. She knocked on the cracked door and when he shifted on the bed- it was bigger and the spread was dark and soft looking -she crossed the room.

She pressed her knee to the mattress and ducked her head down till she could smell the whiff of smoke still in his hair. He was wincing up at her, groggy and grumbling, but there was curl at the corner of his mouth.

“I think you should ask me to stay,” she whispered.

“Was planning on it,” he rasped and then burning warm hands appeared on the backs of her thighs and he dragged her down under the covers.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me some sugar!


End file.
